I couldn’t get up the next morning until Sally came into my room to wake me. Yesterday’s ordeal had utterly drained me, both mentally and physically.
“My Lady, breakfast is ready.”
“I don’t want bread… Do we have rice here?” Today, I craved soft rice, not heavy, dry bread.
“We do.”
“Really? Then can you bring some to the kitchen?”
Since nobody in this world would know how to cook a proper rice porridge, I figured I would just head down and make some myself later to bring over to Hailey.
“This package arrived for you.”
“What is it?”
“This, My Lady. The custom order you requested.”
I opened the heavy wooden box and recoiled in pure horror, dropping it straight onto the floor with a loud thud.
@CLAIRE@
It was a massive, brutal branding iron bearing my name.
“Sa… Sa… Sally!”
“Yes?”
“Tell them to melt this thing down right now and get rid of it!”
“Pardon? Why? Weren’t you planning to brand the estate’s horses with it?”
“No! Absolutely not. Destroy it! Don’t just throw it out—melt it down until there’s nothing left!”
A horrifying scene from the novel flashed vividly through my mind—one the original author had even illustrated.
Two years into the future, Celine returns to the estate. She exposes every single wicked thing Claire ever did, while simultaneously breaking through Adrian’s icy walls. Then, looking right at him, she delivers the fatal line:
“I don’t think I can ever love a man who has another woman’s name branded onto his face.”
With that, she accepts a proposal from the Crown Prince, setting off a chain reaction that seals Claire’s doom. At that point in the story, Claire and Adrian have already been locked in a tense, toxic “will-they-won’t-they” dynamic. Cast out of high society, Claire is forced to scrape by in a miserable labor camp before barely managing a desperate escape.
But Adrian, overhearing Celine’s cutting remark, is consumed by blind rage. He tracks down the fleeing Claire and corners her.
“Are you satisfied now? Now that we both carry the exact same mark? Hahahahaha… Kuhkuhkuh…”
The memory of that sadistic illustration—where Adrian discovers the brand on his own cheek and brands Claire with a white-hot iron while laughing hysterically—made my stomach violently churn.
I had only left a single, harmless comment in the web novel’s forum saying, ‘Wait… isn’t Claire kind of pitiful too?’, only to be relentlessly dogpiled and cyberbullied by the fandom. To think I was now trapped as Claire Ianster, living through this exact nightmare, made me want to weep.
Exhausted to my core and craving peace, the sight of that branding iron snapped me right back to harsh reality.
“Sally, I need to cook. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Cooking had always been my go-to therapy whenever life got heavy. Back home, whenever Han Hyuntaek came home late and devoured my cooking with a compliment, my gloomy moods would magically vanish.
Sally seemed too tired to question my erratic behavior anymore. With a weary sigh, she shook her head and led the way down to the kitchen.
The moment I stepped inside, every single kitchen staff member scrambled backward, pressing themselves against the counters.
Right. I shouldn’t get used to being hated…
It hurt more than I cared to admit to see the cold, hostile stares of the servants, but I forced myself to remain calm. I washed the rice and mushrooms Sally brought out, tossing in tender cuts of beef and finely chopped vegetables. It was a tragedy that sesame oil didn’t exist here, but I managed to whip up a massive, fragrant pot of porridge anyway.
Having spent years as Han Hyuntaek’s wife—a veteran hostess capable of flawlessly catering to dozens of high-society elites on a moment’s notice—I knew how to let quality speak for itself. As the warm, savory aroma filled the room, the tense, defensive expressions of the staff softened just a fraction.
“Um… I made way too much of this. If anyone wants a bowl, please help yourselves,” I said softly, hovering near the exit. I figured if someone offered a kind gesture, the polite thing to do would be to smile back or at least murmur a polite refusal.
Instead, my hopes were instantly crushed by Sally’s blunt interruption.
“My Lady, what on earth has gotten into you lately? Just a few days ago, you were dining with the Count and throwing porcelain plates straight at the head chef!”
“I did? Why?”
“How should I know?!”
I had a terribly long road ahead of me. And when a road is this hopelessly long, maybe choosing not to walk it at all is an option. Ignoring the headache, I packed up individual containers of porridge for Hailey, the knights, and Adrian, and marched straight toward the training grounds. The steaming pots of food parted the crowd of knights like Moses parting the Red Sea.
Putting on a brave face, I stretched the corners of my mouth into a smile and approached Cedric. He still looked like he wanted to murder me, but at least he didn’t spit on the ground this time.
“Cedric!”
“What do you want?”
“Can I drop this porridge off at your place?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Ah. Well, then… could you hand it over to Hailey? She seemed to enjoy it last time.”
He narrowed his eyes, studying me with deep suspicion.
“Is the little girl feeling better?”
“About what happened the other day… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I was just cleaning up my own mess anyway. It’s hardly something you need to thank me for.”
As I set the bowls down on a side table near the training ring, a burly knight with a jagged facial scar swaggered over. Snatching up a bowl, he deliberately walked over and dumped it out for a stray dog wandering nearby, all to put on a show for his peers. As the daughter of a count, I lacked the institutional power to punish every single insubordinate guard.
A few other knights snickered at the display. When I bit my lip in frustration, a second knight grabbed another bowl and splattered its contents across the dirt.
Ugh, such a waste of good food.
I turned my back, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat. I had prepared myself for this kind of treatment, but it still hurt. Then, a rustling sound caught my attention from behind. Slurp, gulp.
I spun around to see Cedric holding a bowl of the porridge, shoveling it down his mouth with quiet determination.
Oh, Cedric…
A moment later, Owen appeared from the side and picked up a bowl for himself as well. Another knight tried to step in, hissing, “Hey, are you out of your mind? That was brought by Lady Claire!”
“So what?” Owen shot back calmly. “Afraid the lady poisoned it?”
My eyes stung with sudden hot tears, so I turned and briskly walked away. Sally didn’t bother hiding her disgust, glaring daggers at the obnoxious guards on our way out.
On the walk back from the training grounds, I filled Sally in on the rescue mission from yesterday. When she heard that Director Vincent had finally been locked away in the Empire’s most notorious prison, she suddenly dropped to her knees right there in the hallway and burst into heavy, relieved sobs.
It took a lot of gentle coaxing to calm her down enough to make it back to my room, and even then, the tears kept coming.
“Sally, please, stop crying now.”
“Oh… My Lady, hiccup… thank you. Truly.”
“For what?”
“Just… everything. I think I’ll actually be able to sleep tonight without having nightmares.”
“Well, good. I didn’t do much, really.”
Sally was still dabbing at her red eyes when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Blinking back the last of her tears, she pulled it open to reveal the estate butler.
“My Lady, His Excellency the Count requests your presence in his study immediately.”
I had a sinking feeling this was coming. Taking a deep, grounding breath, I steeled my nerves and gave a firm nod.
“Tell him I’ll be right down.”